Soulburned : The School of Souls

Chapter Three : Destructive Whispers

"It won't work," Adler said.

"Quiet."

"It never works."

"I said quiet," The Archmage said, his hand pressed against the ruined flesh of Adler's Brand.

Black flames ran up across Adler's skin. The motes of fire didn't burn Adler but left a trail of chilled flesh in their wake. Alder's Guardian, a large man named Herclis, held a naked Shriv blade, its point pressed against the square of Adler's back. The sword's dark grey steel emanated the Shriving Fire, the same black flames that danced across Adler. The same flames that had seared his Brand into his flesh.

They were in the Archmage's office. The walls here, like most of the Iris Tower's, were made of smooth, dark marble. The floor was wood, and covered with a silvery oval rug. A large, oak desk dominated the area of the rug, also ovicular. Green velvet curtains obscured the view of Sclera below. Adler leaned against the desk.

The Archmage was quiet, his eyes closed in concentration. Adler could feel the Logos the Archmage was pouring into the runes on his chest, the sensation made it difficult to breathe. The circular Wizard's Mark on the Archmage's forehead glowed softly.

"Shape the Flames away from his Brand."

"Yes, Archmage," Herclis said.

The Shriving Fire shifted away from Adler's chest. The Archmage poured more of his Logos into Adler, his brow furrowed.

"Archmage," Adler said, "Perhaps tomorrow, after a-"

"Silence." The Archmage commanded.

The words died in Adler's throat, the air pulled out of his lungs. The spell brought the memory of his Branding to Adler's mind. Out of all those men and women who had taken the Brand, of everyone who had dangled over the dark void of the Brazier, only he was left. He'd been just a child. He'd been so afraid. It was the last emotion he'd ever felt.

Adler's Soul had not been destroyed, as it would have if he was Burned, instead it was only maimed. His body was still flooded with the chemicals that caused emotion, and he was aware of Fear as it appeared now. He just couldn't feel it. It didn't affect him.

The Fear sat in his throat and his chest, tied up in the knot that was his Thymos. His Thymos was growing constantly, using his emotions to stoke itself into a greater and greater ball of energy. He could sense the power thrumming there... but he could not touch it, could not relieve the mounting pressure, could not feel it. The Brand did not let him.

The Archmage's scowl deepened as his Logos probed at the Thymos inside of Adler.

"You shouldn't be able to stop this, Let me in!" The Archmage shouted, his frustration bubbling out. They'd been at it for hours today.

"No," Adler replied flatly.

The Archmage swore, then wiped the sweat from his brow. He let the flow of Logos stop.

"If you do not allow us to draw on your Thymos, this city will eventually fall. The Koven will murder our people in the streets! We could save them! You could stop the siege with a wave of your hand! If you'd just let me guide it!"

"That's not what I want."

"You can't want anything!" The Archmage snapped.

It's time. Destroy it.

Adler's Brand began to itch.

"Of course." Adler replied, "You're right."

A roar split through the night, and echoed around the Tower.

Herclis's sword pricked Adler's skin as the large man tensed. The Archmage swore again.

"Was that...?" Herclis asked.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The Archmage pointed at Adler.

"We're not done, here." he said, then turned to the Guardian, "Herclis, go to the wall. They'll need the Shiving Flames to banish it again... I'll check the crystals, they shouldn't have been able to summon the demon this close. Today of all days..."

"Of course, Archmage." The Guardian strode to to window, drew back the velvet curtains, flared his Eros, then Jumped out into the darkness. In the distance, light flared as the Lesser Flame burst into being around the Third Wall.

"Go back to your room." The Archmage commanded.

Another roar cut through the darkness.

Go. Destroy it.

"I'll come with you," Adler said.

"You're not allowed in the catacombs." said the Archmage.

"If it's another Blood Demon, you could use me to destroy it permanently, like you've planned," Adler pleaded.

The Archmage frowned at Adler's feigned change of heart.

"And give you the satisfaction of killing me? No. Go back to your room."

The Archmage pulled a silver disc from his pocket, its surface was covered in hundreds of tiny intricate runes.

"Wait, please, I can help!"

The Archmage channeled some Logos into the silver disc, then disappeared with a crack.

Now! Destroy it!

Adler broke into a sprint, bursting through the wooden door, then tore down the spiral staircase as fast as his feet could carry him.

The entrance of the Catacombs was at the base of the tower, near the exam hall. Adler had seen recently accepted Wizard students being led down there, presumably to receive their Wizard's Mark. He had never been permitted.

His legs began to burn. If he had access to Eros, this wouldn't be a problem.

Jealousy and frustration were added to his Thymos. He ran faster.

In minutes, he reached the base of the Tower, he sprinted through the Library, drawing shouts of alarm from studying Wizards. He could hear alarm bells ringing outside the Tower. Soldiers were rushing to outer districts, preparing to reinforce the Fifth Wall, desperate to reclaim it.

He skittered to a stop when he reached the catacomb entrance.

A large, circular, mausoleum broke up the monotonous bookshelves of the library. Its stone was older, more weathered than the rest of the Iris's, and was completely covered in glyphs and runes, each inlaid with a brass wire. Three doors were inset into the side of the of the mausoleum. Tall, bronze-gilded slabs of iron. Intricate filigree spiraled across their surface, forming runes and interlocking glyphs.

One of each of the three Soulmancy Marks was inscribed on the doors. The left was inscribed with the Symbol of Logos, the Wizard Mark, the one on the right was Eros, The Mage Mark. The final, the one in the center was the symbol depicting a Sorceror's Thymos. It had been defaced long ago, its runes and glyphs scorched by Shriving Flames. Greif.

Large bronze handles jut out from the center of each door. Adler gave one a tug. Nothing happened. He could sense the flow of Logos passing through the bronze gilding, pooling in the glyphs.

Why have you stopped? Destroy it.

Adler ignored the voice and began tapping the glyphs he could reach with his palm. Nothing happened.

Is there another door? he thought, frowning.

Adler began pacing around the mausoleum, tracing the brass inlay with his finger and tapping the stones. He was hoping to find a crack or weak point.

Someone comes.

Adler darted behind one of the nearby shelves. The sound of footsteps began to echo through the Library.

Who would be here so late?

"The Archmage will be quite pleased that you've passed," a man said, "He's been asking after your progress quite fervently."

"That's... reassuring." a young woman replied, "I didn't know he was so interested."

"Of course, with your brother's talent for Conjuration, and your father's position on the Council, well," The man chuckled, "The Archmage has made it clear that your admission would be a great boon."

The pair emerged from one of the shelves. The man, Adler now recognized as Yinstrad Hur, one of the Archmage's secretaries, and an incredibly prejudous man. Adler shrunk a little further behind his shelf. Fear and Anxiety. The only light that made it this far into the tower was cast by the Soul Lights, small orbs of Logos that floated above the shelves, casting a pale blue glow. Gratitude. Adler's Thymos thrummed, further stoked by the emotions Adler was unable to experience. Sadness.

Hur was being followed closely by a short, finely dressed, young woman. She clutched a small book against her chest. She bore not Wizard Mark on her forehead.

"My father doesn't know I'm here." the woman responded. "I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"That's..." Hur hesitated. "That's something that I'll discuss with the Archmage. Here we are."

The pair stopped in front of the large doors. Hur pressed his palm against the large Wizard's Mark and whispered something under his breath. Stone ground against stone somewhere below, and the door began to slowly open.

"This way," Hur said, then stepped into the darkness of the mausoleum. The young woman followed. The echos of their footsteps faded as they descended down the spiraling stairs into the darkness. The sound of grinding stones returned, and the door began to close.

Follow them! Destroy it!

Adler dashed forward, slipping through the open Wizard's door just a second before it slammed closed behind him.